Xoanon
by rhitmcshanm
Summary: Summary: What does every Potions Master need on his birthday? A little gift. A little blushing. It keeps the blood flowing, after all. Answer to a WIKTT Challenge. COMPLETE


Xoanon

by rhitmcshanm

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to JKR and other corporate entities. Although, one can apparently lease the rights to produce Harry Potter stuff, but I don't have that right either.

Summary: A little gift. A little blushing. Rated for sexual insinuations

***

Quiet.

I said, _Quiet_. I heard something. There. Down the hall, I saw something move. I slowly got to my feet and stalked my prey. The flickering torchlight that dimly lit the hallway would play tricks on most people's eyes, but not mine. Mine are still strong even after years of late night patrols. The faculty keep hinting that I can retire at any time, but who I am is partly defined by my ability to find students breaking the rules. I am not quite as quick to spot troublemakers and rule breakers as I was in my youth, but, nevertheless, I have not missed one yet.

On my patrol this particular day, it wasn't precisely after hours—dinner was scheduled to begin in a few minutes—but this dungeon hallway should have been deserted. My suspicions were aroused. I followed the interloper. The person stopped, and I crept closer. It was the current Head Girl. What she was doing down here in the bowels of the school when she rightly belonged up in Gryffindor Tower was yet another question to be answered.

I don't like this girl. Not at all. She is loud and bossy and always in places she shouldn't be. But…she does have a familiar that has caught my eye once in a while. A more handsome cat one will never find. He never notices me watching him, unfortunately.

She had paused in front of one of the myriad mirrors that lined the school's hallways. Nervously, she brushed down her slightly bushy hair with a hand and checked her image to insure her simple, elegant cosmetic charms were still in place. 

"Dear," the mirror spoke suddenly, "you look lovely. What on earth is it that has you so nervous?"\

The girl shook her head mutely and clutched something tighter to her body. 

Now that I noticed it, I could see she was holding some sort of green package. 

"Not going to tell me?" the mirror inquired in a hurt tone.

"Well..." the Head Girl replied, taking a final look at her appearance. "I was just—"

It was at this most inopportune moment—I had really been curious (despite what they say about curiosity killing the cat) about her reasons for being where she shouldn't at a time when she should have been elsewhere—that a sound was heard from further down the hall. 

The girl's eyes widened as she saw another form stalking down the hallway, and she took off like a freed snitch. She didn't even notice me as she flew by. 

The other figure drew closer. He didn't seem to have noticed the girl his appearance scared off. _He_ was supposed to be down here at least. The ever-scowling face of the current Potions Master was impossible to miss. His pallid skin was a stark contrast to his dark robes and his lank and dirty hair was enough to make a mother sick. I stepped further out in the hallway, intent on continuing my rounds, when he ran into me. He ran into _me_. And he didn't even stop and apologize. In fact, I am not even sure he noticed. Through my anger, I realized that this was very odd behavior for him too. 

I sniffed the air. Perhaps there was something—some contaminant—that was causing these people to act abnormally. My acute sense of smell could detect nothing other than the usual mold smell that pervaded the dungeons. It wasn't something I could sense then. I shrugged and gave it up as a lost cause. They were just strange. One could spend _years_ trying to figure these people out and never succeed.

My rounds complete for the early evening, I decided to head up to the Great Hall and get some dinner. Most of the stuff served there was definitely not to my liking, but every once in a while, a scrap of something delectable would be served.

Taking a few shortcuts my years of patrolling had discovered, I managed to arrive just in time to see the Head Girl hurry away from the Head table. The room had a few students in it, but the evening rush had yet to fully begin. No one but me was paying attention to the Gryffindor witch. She sat down with a smug look on her face. I peered up at the Heat Table to see what she possibly could have done. There. On one of the plates. She had placed the green package on one of the professors' plates. None of them had arrived yet, so I was unsure whose plate it was. (You'll have to forgive my lack of insight. As I said before, I rarely attend meals in the Great Hall.) The girl fidgeted in her seat as more students filed in. Her friends—the ones who were in trouble even more often than she was—sat down around her. They didn't even notice her preoccupation. I did. I took a seat and watched intently, certain that a scene was about to unfold.

The Potions Master swept into the room. He stalked down the aisle, ignoring all the laughing, smiling children—intent only on getting to the Head Table, eating his meal, and ending the miserable day. He was several paces from the chair with the package when he came to an abrupt halt. 

Aha! It was his chair! Curiouser and curiouser. 

He eyed the package as though it were a bubotubor pus bomb. Angrily, his eyes swept the room, searching for the person who would have the temerity to place such a thing on his plate. The Head Girl was now fully occupied in conversation with the two troublemakers. Despite her outwardly innocent appearance, the glare of the Potions Master fixed unerringly upon her. He looked as though he were going to sweep over there and take away every single point Gryffindor had ever earned in her seven years at the school, when the gnarled hand of the Headmaster clapped him cheerfully on the shoulder.

"Oh, look! You received a present!" the Headmaster enthused, eyes twinkling. "Why don't you go see what it is?"

Realizing he was trapped by a force more powerful than an Unforgivable, the Potions Master succumbed to the inevitable. He sat down at his usual spot with more than a touch of uncharacteristic trepidation and pulled out his long, ebony wand. Muttering a few spells, he insured the package was not cursed in any way. Seeing that it was clean, he gingerly reached out a long elegant finger and opened a corner of the wrapping. Nothing happened. Feeling a bit bolder, he peeled away more of the brightly colored paper. Suddenly, something changed.

He stiffened, eyes going wide. A moment later a distinct flush crept over his usually pale face. One of his colleagues—the one who is a false cat, having just arrived, noticed the uncharacteristic behavior of the Potions Master and stepped forward, trying to determine what had affected him so. Her eyes landed on the package, still partly covered by wrapping. She stiffened, eyes going wide. A moment later, a distinct flush crept over her usually pale face. I crouched, certain that some magical curse had affected the professors when suddenly the Potions Master shot up from his seat, grabbing the present and wrapping in one smooth motion, and practically stalked from the room.

The Headmaster walked up to the other affected faculty member and quietly asked if everything was all right. She shook her head and whispered that she was fine. The witch took her seat calmly, but throughout the meal, her eyes would stray to her colleague's seat, and she would turn scarlet.

With an unconcerned shrug, the Headmaster took his own seat, and the meal began. The usual feast was uninterrupted except for one more incident. In the middle of the meal, a large owl swooped through the rafters. It dropped a letter into the Head Girl's lap. This was only remarkable because it was not the usual mail time and no other owls appeared. The Gryffindor witch opened the letter, read it, and tucked it into her robes. She offered the owl a bit of her meal and continued to eat as though nothing had happened.

I left the Great Hall sated and ready to begin a night of patrolling. I resolved to keep an eye on that dungeon corridor. 

It was after eleven and I had just caught a pair of Ravenclaw's trying to sneak back into the library—doubtless to do more studying—when my sixth sense alerted me to a possible rule breaking. I practically flew down to the dungeons, certain that's where the disturbance would be. I was right.

A cloaked figure was stealthily making its' way down the hall when I got there. I watched, silent, not raising the alarm, determined to see what would happen. The figure stopped at the door to the Potions Master's chambers. A hand emerged and knocked on the heavy wooden door. Several long moments later, the door creaked open and the Potions Master stepped out. The cloaked figure removed the hood of the cloak and I could see it was the Head Girl.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked quietly, holding out the letter she had received at dinnertime.

Faster than Harry Potter can snag the Snitch, the Potions Master's hand shot out and grabbed the girl's arm. He roughly hauled her into the room without uttering a sound. Her initial shriek of alarm was cut off by the slamming of the door. Not to be deterred in my quest for some clue as to what was going on, I hurried over to the House Elf entrance into the suite and squeezed myself through. The sight I was greeted with was unsurprising. The Potions Master was standing over the cowering girl, yelling.

"What were you thinking?" he shouted. "Were you even thinking? Were you _trying_ to embarrass me in front of my colleagues? Was this some sort of joke?" His face grew redder as he continued his tirade, and his lank hair swung in front of his face. Ever since he had been the victim of an April Fools joke gone awry, he had never tolerated 'funning.' "What in the name of all that is magic possessed you to give me _that_? And at dinner no less!?" He waved his hand at his desk and for the first time, I saw the object that had caused all the trouble.

Oh.

Oh _my_.

I could feel a blush creep up my face, and I _never_ blush.

It was…a statue, a wooden figurine. Of the Potions Master. In his birthday suit. _Au naturel_. And it was incredibly detailed. Every hair, every feature was replicated in exacting detail. Everything…I looked closer…surely it couldn't be _that_ big…my blush deepened as I realized the direction of my thoughts.

I almost gave myself away with a snicker when I realized what the false-cat-woman must have seen. 

"Do you want to get me fired? What if one of the students had seen this? Merlin, what if Hootch had seen it?!" he sat down in the chair with an exhausted sigh. "Please," he practically begged—something extremely unusual for this man, "please tell me why you would do this?"

The Potions Master was silent, waiting for the student to provide an answer as to why she had done what she had done. I myself was curious to know how she had known what details to replicate. 

"I…I…," she began quietly. She looked up at the haggard man. With a small smile, she got up from her seat and sat in his lap. 

I blinked.

"I was thinking, 'Happy Birthday, Severus,'" she said, giving him a kiss. 

I blinked. 

Snape sat there immobile for just a heartbeat before gathering the witch into his arms. He returned her kiss, and I was about to leave them in privacy when he finally asked, "You know I can't stay angry at you, Hermione. But promise me you will never do anything like that again."

"I promise, Severus," she whispered, kissing his neck. "For the record," she said between kisses, "I _did_ try to sneak into your rooms and leave it here in private, but you spoiled that plan by not staying in your office."

Snape only grunted and moved his head to allow her better access, but I could see that something was on his mind. He finally pulled her head away, looked into her eyes and asked, "What is it…for… exactly?" He looked both extremely confused and turned on by her attentions.

She smiled softly and said, "It's a xoanon."

I could be mistaken, but I believe I saw a smile twitch at the corners of the Potions Master's lips. After that, they _needed_ privacy, so I showed myself out. Now I know how the girl knew all the…intimate…features to carve into the wood. Mystery solved.

Speaking of mysteries, why on earth doesn't anyone call me by my first name? Why is it always Mrs. Norris this, Mrs. Norris that. Why can't you just call me Frida? Is it so very difficult? Humans. I will never understand humans.

***The End***

For all those who are curious, a xoanon is: an image of a god that has been carved out of wood. I thought it was appropriate for Severus.

Thanks for reading. All reviews and criticism are welcome.

Written in response to the WIKTT April Fools Day Challenge (rules: title must begin with an X or a Z and must mention April Fools Day in the story)


End file.
